Life is a slow recovery
by QueenBitchIsBack
Summary: This story takes place while Carla is married to Paul. After surgery, Liam is the one you takes care of her. it's family drama, romance, sweetness, subterfuge and whatever else happens.
1. Chapter 1

Good morning/afternoon/night.

It's Carla and Liam. And it happens while Paul is alive,  
Side characters, including Peter and others, will make an appearance and I expect it a few chapters long? It's been ages so I'm a bit rusty... ease my mind and read or reply :p

Part 1

Getting out of the hospital would prove to be a challenge. She knew they'd officially discharged her - and while leaving a hospital fast as was humanly possible suited her well, literally leaving on her own two feet was going to be an issue.

It had been easy enough to get there. She was more than brave enough to undergo a surgery and even painful recovery without holding anyone's hand - a lifetime of disappointing friends, family and boyfriends had given her that. But it was another thing to not wonder how she'd fair once she was … what, home?

She couldn't go to her actual home to recover because Paul would be there. Yes, that was indeed a sad state of affairs (choice words) and she knew it. Her husband knew she was away, but she'd told him she was undergoing a minor cosmetic procedure for the sake of vanity and privacy. He was in no rush to see her swollen or aching and she knew it, so he'd asked if she needed anything and then kissed her on the cheek - and awkwardly on the mouth - before she left.

She knew he'd pick her up if she'd asked and perhaps if she had undergone heart surgery instead of a uterus scrape (or….. As it was), she'd have asked and used everyone in her life for what they were worth.

But telling her husband about her medical issues meant explaining them to the dim man's man that he was. He'd need to know she'd had some endometriosis removed. She'd need to tell him that the actual issue was more so the fibroids and that they had been making her bleed so much she couldn't handle it anymore. Every day could be hemorrhage or shark week and she wanted to get better so she could live her own damn life without feeling pain - or, as much pain, anyway.

But explaining that meant seeing that look in his eye that would inevitably follow the "TMI woman's stuff" immaturity. Quick upon the heels of not wanting to know the details of how his wife's "woman parts" had been beaten or mangled temorraily would be his fear that this may affect his choice to have offspring. Never mind they'd been married for nearly a decade and together even longer. Never mind that when she had even considered the topic he'd not seemed interested. Like many men - and many women - he didn't really feel the urge to be a parent, but he wanted to know progeny was a possibility for the same reason he believed she was undergoing some unspecified cosmetic procedure: vanity.

She knew she was no less a woman whether she'd be able to or even want to have children. But she didn't think seeing his even mere moment of judgement or worry (about himself and his choices) would positively affect her recovery and moods and so lies it was. Again.

She'd chosen a hotel near the hospital - it would be very easy for him to believe exactly what she'd told him and even more easy to believe he'd never once think to go and see her and look after her. A nip tuck or not, she knew a husband should want that, but she also wasn't at all naive. She knew that was not her husband. Not her life. Had she been 22 again she'd not marry someone like that but here she was, mid-thirties - young enough, sure -but too fucking scared to leave the only family she'd ever really known.

Because losing Paul would mean losing Michelle, and darling Ryan and Liam. And she didn't see how being single and in a worse apartment with less money and no family would help her already at max capacity tired and depressed state. Maybe one day she'd be done with Paul. Maybe if her children's line did well or her plan to make some higher end stuff. Maybe if she watched enough empowering Ted Talks or read books about badass independent women. Being single didn't scare her at all, but being without family would cripple her instantly and that was terrifying.

And sure, no small part of her was bitter that his negligent and borderline abusive (okay, very abusive) behaviour wasn't enough for his family to also want to keep her in their life even should their marriage end.

She didn't expect much from Helen, obviously. And even sweet and annoyingly rather doormat-like Barry. But Liam and Michelle turning their backs on her would be the end of her sanity. Liam would be the end of her sanity. A rather evergreen statement if she thought hard enough about it.

They wheeled her to the front of the hospital where the taxi cabs were. She said she could walk but they insist on wheeling every post-op patient. She'd hollered that seemed off to care so much until the threshold of the building only to then let the person fend for themselves like they'd crossed some "now it's okay" force field. But protocol was protocol, so wheeled she was.

She told the taxi driver to put her small carry on wheelie case in the boot and told him where to go. She didn't splurge for 5 stars, but it was still really nice hotel and at least she'd have an excuse to order room service for five days. She hated cooking. Sure, a home cooked healthy meal would be fun, but that had never been something she'd really enjoyed - at least not without the accompanying course of his mother-in-law's' condescension and decision anyway.

She arrived at the hotel feeling much like a rehabbed celebrity only feeling more like someone had gutted her insides. She spoke discreetly with the concierge, telling them her husband was caring for his dying mother (ha) and so she'd picked a recovery spot near the hospital for convenience sake. She didn't need them knowing her life was so pathetic she'd had little choice and even a fictionally dying Helen was a bit cathartic today.

Her room was on the fifth floor and if the lift was out, she'd die. Luckily her fears were over done and so she easily, but in pain, made her way to her room with the help of a valet.

He said a cleaning lady would check in on her that evening, to buzz if there was any issues and that the night staff would be made aware of her situation lest an emergency arise. So far, a good yelp review would be coming their way - after she saw how the meals would go. Whenever she could see herself eating again that is, which was not yet.

She sat down, cried a little at the absurdity of life (as always, in private and with some swearing) and then turned on the telly to keep her company.

Repeats of soaps and quiz shows she'd ignore were her friends for now.

At about 7:30 p.m. she got a text from Paul and the fact it warmed her heart at all was a sad state of affairs, she knew.

"How are you?"

She replied, "Okay."

"Ugly and puffy :p "

At this she sent back an emoji of a middle finger and dozed off a bit.

At 9:30 p.m. the cleaning woman did check on her and room service brought her some soup and a roll.

By 11:30 she was in severe pain, grasping for some pills but not as many as she needed because. Ojy fairness and joy, they also made her nauseated. At least that addiction would be hard to acquire.

At 11:35 she phone pinged. Rolling her eyes and yelping as she stretched to reach the phone that had fallen behind her other pillow, she mumbled "Fuck you Paul. I hope you need dick surgery."

But it wasn't him sending a jab or a check in and it wasn't spam from her many recent online shopping orders. It was Liam,

"I want to see a movie. No one will go. You know I think it's creepy when people go alone. Go with me tomorrow. You owe me if you recall."

His message at first could have been meant for someone else, but she did indeed owe him and she half laughed at the memory.

Helen and Barry had recently made the trek over from Ireland to see Michelle and Ryan and then Paul and Liam - and sure, she was there too, she supposed. In that order though. Which would be fine for her, she wasn't their baby or blood after all, but Helen had invited herself over and somehow Carla had been guilted into cooking. She then burned the food because she was so stressed she'd needed whisky and then the fire alarm went off and more hell broke loose and by the time they were scheduled to arrive, smoke was everywhere and neighbours were angry and she was in for another night of jabs on not only her lack of domesticity but her lack in… everything.

She usually had the strength but the pain was immense by then and her bleeding had started with no sign of letting up. She was doubled over in pain - saying it was a bad period - when Liam came in. He made a lame PMS joke she corrected and then took pity on her calling his mum and saying he'd already made reservations at a really nice place and gave his card number so they had to go. He blamed Paul for not telling him it was supposed to be hosted at his,

Helen said that would be a waste of money and then Liam covered the phone and Carla assumed next was a crack about being saved from her cooking at least.

So, by the skin of her teeth, she'd avoided the battleaxe's jibes that night and so did owe him.

"Didn't Paul tell you where I was….? Also it's too late for a movie!"

Immediately she got back, "Where are you?" followed by more than one ?

"I got a minor procedure done. Beauty is pain and pain is beauty and all that."

"Where though?" he replied.

"I have to name the body part now?"

"Where are you, you dim cow."

"Hotel."

"Who the fuck goes to a hotel to recover from surgery? Haven't seen the daily mail follow you yet, didn't know you were so famous."

She scoffed but laughed. And it hurt to do so.

"But seriously," he texted back. "Where? And why aren't you home?"

She paused and began to type and before she could send a cavalier reply that said "I am famous, Leebugs." He had already sent one more message with his own answer. "Paul."

"It's just easier." She sent instead.

"Well at least tell me he knows which hotel you're at."

"I think so. *shrug*" she sent. "I think I told him 'The Abode."

"You don't recover cheap, do ya kid." He sent back.

And then one moment later. "And it's never too late for a movie, btw."

It should have been her clue. Liam liked ending conversations properly, not with a joke or sarcastic blip. So she shouldn't have been surprised when he showed up 35 minutes later. In fact she'd known it might happen when she remembered she told him the location quite readily but in a way that seemed casual.

At 12:37 a.m. he was brought to her door and let in by the staff. They'd called up when he explained he was looking after his family member who'd had surgery. They knew it to be true and confirmed - very obviously assuming her husband had fled his dying mother to be by his wife's side for a few days.

"You really didn't need to come, you know." Carla muttered clearing her throat.

"Yeah well, as much as you're a daft brat most of the time and do me head in, I do know you'd be there for me if I was poorly and alone."

"Alone by choice."

"Sure," he said without looking at her. He removed his shoes, put a bag on the small desk and finally looked at her again.

"You don't look like you 'ad summat done…. So unless it's… " He did an outrageously stupid motion over his body and she shook her head with a half laugh.

"No, I lied… you see."

"No surgery… but you do seem like you're in pain…."

"I lied about the kind of surgery. She tried to sit up a bit more as he look went from confused to panic.

"I'll live yet, Leebugs," She muttered. "Much to the chagrin of many."

"Don't be daft. What did you get done?"

"It were just fibroids… you know. Like benign tumour type of things. Giant balls of evil pain. Along with the endometriosis - the latter of which I am sure can't be gone and never will totally. But-"

He cut her off by gently sussing her out as he sat on the foot of the bed scared to move her at all.

"You can sit."

He sat and shifted just a bit, his band touched her calf for a moment. "Forgive me Car, but you know I'm daft and it was never said by anyone 'Oh I hope our Liam becomes a doctor.'"

She laughed and half-assedly nudged him with her toe. Even that movement hurt.

"It's googleable, but basically…. I was bleeding a lot. It won't kill me. Well bleeding a lot can. Anyway, they removed some bad stuff. Did some tests - they assured me they will come back good, which is "negative" and told me that aside from feeling a bit like I've just been ripped apart, I will be functional and feel a lot better within a few weeks."

"So you'll be okay, for sure?"

"I mean, I am gonna die. We all are…."

"Carla."

"Yes, Lee, I'll be okay for now. Just feels like I was stabbed a billion times and then scraped and then stabbed again. But I will be fine."

"Only you could sit up and chat like this after surgery!"

"I am tough as shit eh? At least I have that going for me huh."

"Why didn't you say what it was. Does Paul know, I mean obviously he knows…"

"He does not know." She said flatly. "And I rather he not. And before we spin on and on and over and over back and forth - I am very tired - so let me save us the time. There's always a chance someone like me will have a harder time conceiving or carrying a child - especially after a scrape - as I call it."

"Are you… is he… I never really thought you were…"

"We were not trying. Not at all. But like most men with an ego the size of a small planet, he will want to assume he can maybe one day."

"Don't you think you should -"

"No I don't think I want to tell him, though I suppose I can't stop you."

"Not that, you daft mare." He spat. "Don't you think if you had internal surgery you should have told SOMEONE to be with you. Literally anyone. Even Norris!"

At least she let out a cackle and winced. "Fuck."

"Sorry."

"Well, looks like I don't need Norris, I got the next best thing anyway. Worried were ya?"

He looked at her intently for a moment too long, his hand touching her calf over the covers again and then took an sharp inhale and tried to just about do all to avoid shaking his head.

He stood up and pulled a DVD out of the bag he'd placed down earlier.

"I was just coming 'round to prove a point. It's never too late for a movie." His stupid cheeky and goofy grin made her wince - she pretended it was the pain and not feeling like the grinch who's heart just grew three sizes upon witnessing its first act of kindness.

TBC.


	2. Part 2

Thanks to anyone who read.

Part 2:

She'd fallen asleep about 25 minutes into the movie - a silly comedy which was the fastest thing he could find as he bolted from his house four minutes after her text telling him where she was. Where she was bloody recovering from surgery. Alone.

He loved his brother, at least he kept telling himself that. But the fucking lout was too much sometimes. Carla shouldn't be scared of what he'd think or feel. This should be about her. Who in the fucking hell would worry more about a hypothetical baby they likely didn't even want over the general health and well-being of their wife. Of Carla.

He'd grabbed the movie and some boring biscuits from the kitchen and made it over there as fast as he could. For all their fights, all the strife, she was family and beyond that a friend. No one he cared for should be suffering alone when he was alive to make sure they weren't.

He'd do the same for anyone, maybe.

She stirred and moaned around 2 a.m. and nearly bolted upright in severe pain. He handed her two more tablets and checked her temperature. No fever, no infections, she'd said. And she nearly drifted off but the pain was too severe.

"Tell me a story."

"No." he said flatly.

"But I'm sick…. Boo hoo feel bad for me."

He smirked and stopped caring about space and moved to sit right beside her, leaning against the headboard slightly over her.

"About a princess?"

"Boring."

"About an action hero."

"Nah."

"About ghosts?"

"Definitely not." She shook her head. "Nothing dead or ugly."

"In general, good rules, those." He said. "But then what's left."

She turned her head, rumpled hair, paler than usual and slightly dry lips and winked. She bloody winked.

"You look like hell, for the record."

"My hell can still be most men's heaven," she snarked back tapping his arm.

"That it is."

They both ignore the statement and he poked her arm.

"Who asks for dirty stories when they're this sick?"

"On second thought bad idea. My uterus feels like a cat and a porcupine had a fight in there so the last thing I need is bloody rushing anywhere south in my body. Though I've heard your stories… I'm not at much of a risk of being in the mood."

"Oy, I'll have you know, I'm quite good at all that dirty talk."

"Liam!" She mocked in horror. "A dirty or sexy story is not the equivalent of dirty talking! I would be asking for narrative and fiction not you to tell me every which way you'd fuck me,"

Silence. Fucking silence. For just two beats too long.

"If only you brought another movie. For a pricey hotel, their channels are lacking." Carla and the segue to the rescue. Mercifully.

"Speaking of pricey…." he made a low whistle noise. "This place… for days?!"

"Well, he won't get mad and won't know how much of our - and it is ours, not just his, money I am spending. He already thinks I spent a cool four grand on some mysterious cosmetic touch up, so in a way this part isn't a lie, NHS, mate. Surgery for real shit is covered ...and so…"

"So you thought, why not spend the cash you'd be spending in your lie, on this place." He nodded. "I always underestimate that powerful brain of yours. That's just pure and proper logic, that."

She tapped her head. "Some stuff is still in working order…. Even if I won't be able to wank for two months probably."

He stared at her aghast and then shook his head with a laugh.

"You thought I was just gonna segue and NOT bring it back to making it awkward,. NEVER"

Her throaty laugh was all the cheer he needed, she seemed like herself. Pain or not.

And it was only because of surgery that he could even fathom sharing a bed with her in a gorgeous hotel room in the middle of the night when she made noises like that.

He was a nursemaid. He'd keep telling himself that. Maybe for years.

They talked and by the time morning came she was more peacefully asleep. He waited until around 11 and her breakfast had been brought up for him to excuse himself. Though he said he'd call her and check in the next day in person.

She made a show of how unnecessary that was but she was smiling and not her usual crestfallen self. So he decided 'sod tomorrow' he'd be back tonight.

The next two days were largely the same. Intense pain, boring meals, crappy telly and waiting for it to be evening when Liam would be there. He'd offered to stay during the day on the second day but she'd nearly hurt herself shooing him out. It's not that she was afraid of taking his time. SHe was never afraid of anything with Liam. Not really. The only thing she feared was losing him and Chelle and now - after the two days of him going over the top to not only keep her secret but he her caregiver - she knew it in her bones: she didn't need to fear losing him. Short of cheating on Paul, she knew even if they split, Liam would know her. She would always have him.

Short of hurting his brother by cheating - and that chain of thoughts lead to only something far worse.

It had been 15 years of shaking away these creeping thoughts. She wasn't delusional enough to pretend they didn't exist. She just chalked it up to the fact that two heterosexual and very attractive people who were a man and a woman would always have some odd little thing between them. It was just nature. Biology. Brother in law or not.

And that spark, that tickle of what could be a fire if she let it was one thing to battle. But being laid out at her most vulnerable and wanting to snuggle up into him even as she cried from pain was another level she could not and would not entertain.

She had Liam and his loyalty to her. That had to be enough.

Day four came and he arrived later than usual.

"You didn't have to come if you had a hot date - though I've seen the mingers? Your dates and hot ain't the word I'd used to describe them but whatever floats yer….What, what is it?"

He ran his nervous hand through his hair and shrugged. Dammit.

"Something the matter? Is everyone okay."

"Yeah everyone is fine. I just…"

"Oh shit you did have a date. I'm sorry. I mean, well no but… you didn't have to come here if…"

"No date. For me," He shook his head.

Paul. She knew. She had her suspicions and she was beyond angry and sad every time she considered all the evidence. But the worst thing about that exact moment of realization was knowing she was more relieved to hear Liam had no date. A new level of 'fucked' up was happening in her life

The pain was awful. Torturous and she couldn't even get up to tell Paul off. She was literally trapped with pain and rage and it had always been figurative until his bloody moment,

"I… it were a client and I didn't mean to. Fucking hell Car, you've just had surgery and I am worrying you for nowt… I.." he swore up and down earlier when he saw Paul at that place with that woman that he'd shut his damn sodding mouth. And he knew a large part of him was risking hurting her while she was at her most vulnerable for the most selfish of reasons.

"I know Liam." She calmed her voice. "I feel like a atone of bricks had fallen onto my chest because I already know but i am not so fucking poorly I can't go yell at him, hurt him or even fuck someone else to get even."

He nodded. A mere twitch at the last line.

"I'm sorry." He looked in more pain than her, and she patted the bed.

"And I'm truly sorry that I may kill your brother."

He nodded again. "Not if I don't first…. But, you know, I could still be wrong. And I fucking hate how much I can't lie to you that I said ANYTHING whilst you're like this."

She nodded and half laughed bitterly. "I mean, that is quite awful timing even for you. Had I suspected your wife was screwing around I'd have waited til you could walk without crying to tell you.

He smacked his face with his hands in defeat. "I am the worst. But it's you… I can't lie to you."

"And that's why you are not your brother." she touched his arm and looked up at him.

"I lied to you once." He said. "You don't actually look like hell."

She smiled slightly and grabbed his hand. "This I already know,"

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

A short one for today, thank you for the kind words and reading at all! :)

Part 3

Sitting on the edge he ran his hands through his hair. She was standing now and fiddling with her phone charger at the nearby desk. Watching her walk used to captivate him for all the wrong reasons and now he grimaced as she seemed to wince with each step. Her pain was a nightmare for him.

She put on 'I want to be adored' by the Stone Roses and he nearly gave a bitter laugh. For all the years he'd been quietly adoring her while opening hating on her, she'd had to have known just a bit. He knew it wasn't for him though, besides being of the right age in the right city to love the bloody song, this was for her husband. Not him. And until a few days ago he'd thought of her as such as well. For his brother, not for him. But his thoughts upon seeing this blasted warrior of a woman try to recover alone mixed with seeing Paul out with some bottle blond in town - he couldn't even make himself think the way he used to. No matter what hell that meant for him now. Denial was a damn beautiful thing and he didn't have the luxury of denying anything much anymore.

She swayed only by a wee bit and leaned on the desk. "It were not the first time, I'm sure," she said with more neutrality than he'd expected. Where was the Carr who would burn it all down if need be? That was just it though, she never was that. She was smoke and mirrors in the most perfect and painful way - an illusion of vengeance and fire when she always fucking took it on the chin when push came to shove. He was only starting to understand that may be the real ironic tragedy of her life. Imagine all the semblance of blazing power and never the rewards. The derision when she never even got her way.

If she caught him pitying her, she'd end him - that much strength he did know to be there. Or maybe just because it was him.

"Leebugs?" She said, nodding her head a bit. "What are ya like? You know I hate pity more than anything…. I'd rather suffer anything but pity - well okay, it's a second to being forced to look and talk like the factory lot. But a close second."

He smirked and looked up at her. "It's not pity, love. It's rage. Pure fucking rage. And at you too."

"At me? What the 'ell did I do?!" She asked with a rough laugh. "Surgery, being cheated on… where do I come in as the bad guy?"

"If this isn't the first time… why is he walking properly?"

"Ah." she nodded and then again knowingly to herself more than at him. "I… I only had vague suspicions as it were. Literally zero proof. He's never not wanted me .." She put the emphasis, that painful and verbal italics on the 'wanted' and he coughed a little. "He's a prick, but I kept thinking a secure one in some ways that mattered. He's doing well. I am doing well. I put up with him…. And he wants me. I dunno. I guess I thought I was being fucking paranoid didn't I? Like a fucking cliche wee girl to imagine coldness meant cheating. That lies meant a lot more lies."

"You're not a cliche, but he fucking is…." Liam ran off mumbling "Bloody midlife crisis."

"Meh," she shrugged.

"Meh?" He was nearly incensed. "So that's it then, this is okay with you?! 'Cos I can you what kid, it's not okay with me. Not by a bloody fucking mile."

He stood up and walked past her to the window, hands once again ruining his hair.

"You think this is okay to me? Do you even know me Lee? I'm a nightmare woman if I feel hard done by."

"Another lie." He mumbled.

"What?"

"Lies. You are literally always hard done by and you pretend and go along with the 'oh big bad scary bossy Carla bit.' and I'm only just seeing how tired you should fucking be."

She laughed and shook her head bitterly. "

"What?"

"Nothing it's just… how bloody nice for you that you're only now seeing what I live me whole life like."

"If you know it's true then why let it be…"

"I rather be seen as a bitch than a doormat Liam. Even if the latter is true."

"The don't…"

"Don't be a doormat?" She interrupted.

He nodded weakly.

"Tell that to your da, or Michelle when your mum decides to control their life choices. Tell that to yourself when you can't ever tell your own brother to sod off. Not so easy is it?"

"It's different…. we're talking about you. You. the epitome of strong and…"

"Fantasy."

"What?"

"I'm a strong powerful fantasy. Someone people like to see as strong because there needs to be some of us to look up to and loathe at the same bloody time…"

"Fuck fantasy, you're family, Carr…"

"Aye. Your family. Chelle's family. Ryan's family. In case you forgot there is someone who ties us all together and it's not Helen - not for me anyway."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I was trying to preserve the fragile ecosystem of the Carlaopod"

He made a confused face and she laughed.

"Daft… as always. I mean I guess I was trying to keep us together - even though sometimes, if I am perfectly honest - I wish I had other people, better people."

"Ta."

"Stronger people. And you're welcome. But this is what I 'ave hmm.. And I guess not for much longer. He really did it for me, ripping the band-aid… If he's cheated I can't pretend to forgive him. Ever."

"I don't…"

"I mean I guess this will be the end of Christmas Leebugs, and it's only July." At his confused face she stepped closer, wincing only a little. It was funny how rage and sadness could momentarily medicate physical pain. "I know where you will have to be. And where I will not longer be welcome or wanting to be."

"You cow. You think Chelle and I would just… not ever speak to you?"

"You'll speak to me, this I know, but how can it be the same. I won't be a Connor anymore. Not really."

She didn't know how much this hurt him and brought him joy. That losing Paul was a pathetic side not to what really scared her. Losing them. He was part of that them and it would be enough to bring him the most pathetic sense of joy starting now and ending never.

"I'm not too proud now - " she motioned to her body. "Injured and in me jammies to tell you that I will miss this. Miss you doing my head in on the regular and even Chelle's 'me me me' stories. I guess I am still Ryan's hot aunt but -"

"Mardy cow," He laughed and pulled her close, a little too quicky, cradling her against him, kissing her hair. He'd meant for more, felt an urge to lay his lips softly on hers and ignored that urge for the umpteenth time and held her tight.

She was motionless and slowly wrapped her arms around him.

His lips were close to her ear and she shivered at the slight tickle and heat.

"I'm not going anywhere. It were him that hurt you. It were him that you couldn't even call to tell him what you went through. He may be my brother, Carr but you're my… you're in my life alright."

She held him tighter and let herself also relax more into him. "I…"

"I don't even know who I'd fight with properly without you… and who would come to concerts and movies with me huh? I mean sure, it's me, I could find any number of willing people" At this she laughed and he felt warmth on his chest. Tears. "But we look presentable and who the hell else would be good enough to accompany all this out and about?"

He pitched his side and he smiled against her hair.

"So I won't have to miss you is what you're trying to say, you soppy git?"

"He stroked her hair and pinched her back. "Nope…."

"I'll miss this room though." She said under her breath.

He was still for a while. Unsure how long. And then moved her away a bit to look at her.

"You know I'm only a soft touch because of surgery right?"

"Of course." He said flatly. "Now on that note. Get back to bed."

"You're staying."

A careful question and a not so gentle command all at once. Her.

"Yeah."

tbc.


	4. Part 4

Part 4

_Fluffy and not super long. Thank you for reading, as per. More will follow soon ish. _

The sun came up earlier than he remembered it and that was more proof that he rarely saw this bit of morning than some grander change in celestial behaviour.

Blinking away a bit of sleep, he moved over to see Carla curled up on his shoulder, a large pillow tucked between them so she'd not roll on her side - which she'd said felt like murder.

This was her last day in the hotel - a place she said she'd miss, a place he'd damn well miss too for all it allowed him to do.

He had to use the loo, he wanted to brush his teeth and get some water but he didn't feel like he could move her. She was rarely so peaceful and the week ahead couldn't be much to look forward to considering he'd just blown up her marriage by sharing his suspicions of Paul - albeit in the most pathetic and half-hearted way. And hardly a revelation apparently.

But her things were there and her place was so comfortable - it was her. He knew she'd not have the strength to fully move about - even Carla with all her conniving brilliance hadn't thought it through totally. How would Paul not figure out her pain was not from some cosmetic procedure and why the fuck hadn't he thought to come here himself by now.

He knew half the answers to everything and the totality of nothing. It was always that way for him.

She moved a little to her back and sighed. He laughed at how a sight like this years ago - when they were always together as mates and faux enemies would have undone him in the most teenage boy of ways.

Now, of course, he didn't doubt - hell, he knew - that she still had that cursed effect on him, but this week, this moment, all he could think about was making sure she was free of pain. In every way.

While there was little he could do to mitigate her "organ scrape" as she called it, he was damn sure going to try and play interference with his brother. She needed some comfort, some relative calm before the storm hit and he would make sure she got that.

He felt a bit like a daft man playing hero, but if anyone would both mock him and applaud him for it, it would be her.

She moved again and this time opened her eyes. "What time is it? And please tell me you weren't staring at me… sleeping beauty, I ain't."

He smirked and shook his head. "I am kind of freaked out by surgery, so yeah I observe a bit out of worry. Sue me."

She smiled widely and stretched gently before sitting up. "I am home tomorrow."

"I know."

"I don't want any drama Liam, you hear me. I'm not ready to fight the shitty good fight as it were… not in the state I'm in. I always thought I'd be wearing heels if I left him, you know. And I can't really handle that pressure on me back just yet."

"You always thought you'd wear heals?" He nearly laughed as he raised a brow.

"Yeah… I have outfits planned for most big events in life. Classy hot aunt for Ryan's wedding. Depending on when he gets married. I mean I won't be 70 in summat Liz MacDonald would wear but, you know… and, okay she is your mother and you love her blah blah, so I'lll spare you my 'Helen's wake outfit' - spoiler: it's red."

At this he laughed.

"And for your wedding…." She paused and half laughed. "Well…"

"My wedding to who?" He pulled a face and at that moment he was the 21 year old boy she'd known so well.

"Whom," she corrected. "Actually no it's not… actually, I dunno." She smiled. "I mean I could wear a paper bag and show up anyone who is your bride so I was thinking a beekeeping suit to be kind."

"Get your arse up and shower before I leave in case you fall."

"I won't fall, I'm fine Lee."

"Just go get ready. We'll walk downstairs for brekkie today to see how you fair."

"Yes sir," She gave a sexy salute a little too jovially and there it was. That feeling. Well, he was wrong to think he'd only feel a nursemaid even now.

"Leebugs?"

15 minutes later and he was roused from his reverie to her annoying and cute nickname for him.

She peaked out of the washroom and stuck wet an naked arm out.

"What?" He pretended not to need to clear his throat.

"I forgot the robe. The fluffy one. It's still tossed on the chair at the desk. Can you grab it and hand it to me?"

He was silent for one beat too long.

"I mean I could waltz out like this but wet floors etc…."

She made an evil grin, he knew it was just like it always was, she knew exactly what she was and wasn't saying.

Maybe for once he should be as calculated.

"You're leaving soon so it's fine. Maids won't care. Go ahead." He smirked and crossed his arms.

She exhaled and grumbled then dropped her head. "Got me. I am not ready to tease anyone even at all yet…. "

"Don't play a player, Carr."

"As if!" She smiled and made the gimme motion with her hand and he went to fetch the fluffy robe.

"I'm famished. Get ready fast will ya," he said.

"Oh aye, 'e's 'ungry….." She muttered. "I see how pity for the pitiful and poorly only lasts a few days."

Within a moment she was out in her silly robe.

"But for real - and you know I hate being real sometimes -" She stepped towards him. "Thank you, you big lummux. I don't know what I'd have done without you. Well get more peace and quiet maybe but." She winked at him and he nodded and ruffled her wet hair.

"Ta and blah blah blah...just get ready while I use the loo okay. Breakfast awaits."

Breakfast was the usual. She wasn't hungry enough but wanted bites of everything. All the better if it was off his plate. And the usual for him too, which was hungry and then listening to comments on how despite how fit he always had been dad bod lay ahead if he didn't cool it.

Some young woman at the next table shook her head when she heard Carla say that and Carla pulled a face "My bad… I forgot how sensitive literally everyone is to everything."

"You sound like an old man." He joked, sipping more coffee.

"Well it ain't like I was shaming some poor sod I didn't know. It's YOU, no matter what time and place, I reserve the right to shame you!"

She reached for his coffee and he swatted her away.

"Hot water or herbal tea only, you said yourself you didn't want more pain… "

"It's been a week, I. am. fine. Gimme."

She drank from his cup, leaving some lipstick residue and smiled. By looking at her you'd never know she was in any pain. "Feeling terrible is no excuse for looking terrible," she'd said on more than one occasion.

"Okay, well i see you are almost back in working order, so that's good."

"You can go Liam, seriously. I am all good… well not great but I am now able to manage basics. Like taking a lift (which I did on me own before by the way) and grabbing my wheely case and taking a taxi…."

"How can you pack, I know it still hurts when you bend over. I see you flinch."

"I will ask the maid for assistance. Obviously."

"No, you were going to suffer and do it yourself..., as always."

"Go. On. Now."

"I can be late for work," he said dismissively.

"You already are late. And you've missed more than a day. Please just go before Paul asks questions. I know how rubbish you are at lying. Unlike him."

"I can lie."

"Sure, love," Another sip of coffee and a roll of her eyes.

"I can lie."

"I know your life hasn't exactly been full of subterfuge and you haven't needed to and that's okay."

There were two aspects of his life she had no clue about. One was too horrible to repeat and burdon her with, the other. The other wasn't going to be said no matter how much he felt like saying it.

There'd always been that one giant secret between them and that perfect bit of tension too. Maybe when he was evasive she read it as a sulk, but he was okay with that. He had to be.

Desperation to tell her - admittedly his best friend no matter what people thought - about the worst night of his life was strong. But he would not. He would not ruin everyone's life for fake absolution from her. If she would even be able to give that.

After packing her things, she insisted on getting her own taxi. He really didn't want her going home alone but when she put her foot down, it was down and not to be moved.

So he went to work and back to his life on the cobbles. Back to being number two to his brother, back to a factory full of cackling hens and dim-witted dates he likely deserved. Back to being the frenemy brother in law to all who observed them and back to lying.

He'd miss that cozy and stupidly expensive hotel room and the strange freedom it had brought him.

_Tbc. _

(Ride leave them all behind song)


	5. Part 5

Part 5 _Thank you. Again. Sounds basic and obvious, but having you read and like really does encourage more. *shrug* so thanks x_ What the bloody fuck was back to normal and why did she ever say she wanted to be there.

Normal in terms of not having surgical pain, sure. But even that would be better than the pain she'd been enduring for a year prior.

Normal like her own bed and shower and fridge, sure. But her bed was not as plush, her shower not as clean and her fridge dangerously empty.

Normal like Paul coming home and thinking that ordering a take away and daring to drink wine beside her while she could not was okay. Normal like an empty flat and a desire to be around people but not knowing who wouldn't piss her off.

Normal like …. Normal was and will always be overrated. Her normal, she decided, anyway.

She'd texted Liam a few times in the past two days she'd since been home. She had little choice or he'd make a big to do. And he was fun to text. Paul was one word answers, very boring innuendo or sass she didn't care for in a man… or anyone for that matter.

Michelle messaged her - which was shocking because although they seemed to eb and flow with how close they were at any given time - Michelle while busy with a boyfriend was a very MIA Michelle.

Steve was causing aggro. For the life of her Carla could not see why Michelle decided he was fit for her, but she long since learned that beyond a few jabs and drunken jokes, women didn't tolerate that sort of judgement well. And never coming from her.

Besides, as she looked around the flat at Paul's things - including the golf clubs she considering bludgeoning him with - she knew she was one to fucking talk.

She still could not walk in heels and it wasn't like he could try for or expect sex, so there was no need to have any difficult conversation yet. By that, of course, she meant a blow out-knock down fight. Or flight, as it were. Because she truly didn't know how Paul would react to her questioning, or her threats to leave and she had to make them more than empty threats this time around didn't she.

It was like the strength she'd had in that hotel room had nearly vanished as she attempted to remember the same old 'normal' that she now felt she was doomed to remain in.

The betrayal stung more. The likelihood that he had been cheating on her cemented by observing his coldness. The kicker was, he had always been cold, except when they were intimate and yet somehow this coldness seemed knew. She knew exactly what was standing out. She was grown now, no longer a girl. She was a woman who dared to know what she wanted and she was shocked more than anyone to discover what she wanted was someone with a warm heart. The kind of person who would stick by her for good and bad… the kind of person that would bring over stupid movies and make sure she was well enough to be on her own but then not leave her on her own because he loved her company so much. That kind of person that had a very obvious avatar right now and that… that was the part she could not think too much about.

A knock at the door turned out just to be an amazon delivery and she accepted it rather glumly.

Before she could shut the door though, Liam stood in her hallway.

"What you doin' here?" She realized a little too late how widely she was smiling now. And the contrast - had he seen her just a second ago frowning like a child whose ice cream just fell - would be a dead giveaway.

He simply smiled back.

"Checking on you…. Also, you owe me that movie remember?"

"Do you ever work?"

"Not very hard, it seems."

She laughed at his admission and let him follow her in.

"I dunno, sitting in a theatre…."

"Do you still need to lie down a lot?"

"I mean, I need to often but not all day. It's more so…."

"What?"

Nothing, she thought. Just the dangerous precipice she stood on that was 'this is not your normal and it feels so much better, right?'

They'd always been friends, but in the past bunch of years they'd stopped the manic level of spending so much time together. She'd settled into the roll of shrew wife (as told by Paul) and Liam had his own life to lead -however much she judged it. She missed their youth and heady banter but they weren't kids anymore. And this was either a nostalgia trip that would make her feel old and stunt him or…. Or if was a dangerous not normal.

"I want to see a film. I 'ave no one to go with," he said, ignoring whatever plea she'd make next. If Paul was the reason, he didn't want to hear it.

He knew that a few years ago, had he caught Paul cheating or even suspected it he would have had some harsh words - drunken ones, likely - with his elder brother. But now, well, now he knew full well why he was choosing another path. It stung to think on it too hard, but there was a Mr. Hyde to his hapless Dr. Jekyll now and it would not be ignored. Nearly 15 years was more than enough.

"Which film?" She said, putting in lipstick and clearly getting ready to join him.

"That hero one… I knew you'll say…"

"I'll say, good. Listen Leebugs, I hate pretentious shit. You want explosions and easy morality, I'm there. So long as you pay."

"I'll pay."

"That'll be a first," she scoffed and nudged his arm.

"I'll just change and we can go."

The movie was uncomfortable in how comfortable it was. She talked too much, he remembered that now. They hadn't really been to a film just the two of them for ages but it was coming back to him now. She liked to point out which men were hot but he knew he'd be smacked if he dared mention a fit actress. He loved this. Her jealousy made me feel warm and now he felt even more uncomfortable because even that was perfect to him.

She ate half the popcorn but didn't want to hold it lest her jeans get greasy. This meant she was reaching into his lap every few minutes and he shook his head to tell the inner teenage Liam to shut the fuck up and watch the film.

Moments of sadness hit hurt throughout the film. She was mourning more than the sacrificial death of a good character. She was noting how natural this felt and what that meant - she was mourning the entirety of her adult life so far and all it ended up being instead of what it should have been.

"You okay?" He asked, touching her arm in a gesture Liam rarely did when sober.

"Yeah. it were sad though, right."

"Sure, but…"

"Sad. Shhh." She refocused on the film and he kept staring at her profile. He knew every angle and he knew every expression and this was not her "sad movie moment" face.

He knew this was daft, this next move would undo him and royally piss her off or confuse her but he grabbed her hand. Like a daft teenager on a first date and she sat perfectly still.

She half smirked after a few beats and took her hand away. He nodded to himself more worried than dejected, but then felt her lean into him on his shoulder where she remained for the rest of the film.

The ride home was quiet. When they arrived back at her flat he moved to get out but she stopped him.

"You've done enough," she said and for a moment he was scared. "You've been there in a way I … thank you Liam."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek sweetly. It wasn't the first time she'd done so, but it was different.

His urge to pull her onto him nearly took over. He pictured his hands in her hair, bringing her face to his, urging her lips to open for him. Holding her head as his other hand rested on her thigh.

"Did I make it awkward Liam?"

"Huh?"

"By being nice. I know you often expect a wind up for forgive me for having a moment of real feelings but…"

She was smiling and he shook his head.

"No no. Not awkward. I mean, I wonder if you're alright,... too nice. Where did my Carla go?"

"Oh she's in here Liam. For good and bad, she's still here." She winked at him and went to shut the door. "Oh and Liam?"

"Yeah?"

"Pretty bold."

"What?"

She bit her lip and walked away.

(One week later)

"Carla!" Hailey smiled as she entered the cafe. No one understood their bond, but Hailey had seen Carla crying and drinking in the factory one night - after Paul and Liam had left. She'd spilled her guts about feeling like a kept woman, stifled by an idiot man and mocked and hated but a bunch of loser hens. Hailey laughed, defended a few souls, and hugged her. From that moment on, Mrs. Hailey Cropper became a trusted friend. Roy and her were still feeling their way around, but Hailey had said she thought Roy quite liked Carla - her loud laugh aside. He liked honesty above all else and Carla was nothing if not brash and bold, so according to Hailey, whether she could see it or not, he liked her too.

"You've been gone for a while, they said you went to some spa…."

Carla rolled her eyes. "If Paul were gonna lie, I wish he'd have said holiday, spa makes it sound like I was in rehab for ages."

"Oh no one thought that!" Hailey said quickly. But at this Roy stopped making the butty and said:

"They did Hailey. You heard Fizz and Kelly yourself."

Hailey tossed the dish rag down, "Oh Roy. Not everything has to be said."

"Truth is truth though and…"

She shook her head and moved them towards the back table.

"Were it… Well, are you alright?"

Carla smiled and patted her arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. It was surgery for…. Well anyway."

"You don't need to tell me. I believe in privacy more than most…."

Carla nodded but explained it all to her quietly when a lull hit the cafe and no one she knew was within ear reach.

Of course this meant Hailey would offer anything to help as well and Carla reassured her at least one hundred times she was well on the mend and would be much much better in a few weeks of taking it easy.

"Well Roy and I are here for you, aren't we Roy."

"For what?" He'd, of course, now been eavesdropping. He would never.

"We're here for you," Hailey repeated, patting her hand.

"Ta. I'm really fine and Liam was so great about everything so…"

"Liam?" Hailey asked, cocking her head to the side. When she saw Carla freeze she put on her best game face and nodded. "Oh well, it's great to have support!"

She wasn't at her best but after two weeks she felt she could do most things she wanted to do again. She still wasn't drinking and she … well there was no one to have sex with but she wouldn't be doing that either right now anyway.

Michelle had come up for air when Steve was at a poker night with the guys and they'd gone for dinner. It was a bit boring but luckily she hadn't even asked much about her past few weeks and so little lying was required.

Paul was at a meeting, again, she wondered with who and where.

Feeling better was a bit of a curse because it allowed her to think of more than pain and Liam. it allowed her to feel the deep pit in her stomach every time Paul smiled or used his phone. Every time she thought of her fidelity and how he'd likely broke his and humiliated her to the person she wanted to save face to the most: herself.

When Michelle, bless her, was done wittering on about how cramped she felt with Steve, Amy and Liz living with her and Ryan - or rather, the reverse, Carla decided she'd go to the factory because going home was something she couldn't face yet. She knew the better she felt the more on edge she'd be, the more wanting to rip off the bandaid and confront Paul about her suspicions and Liam's partial observations.

The factory was dark inside, quiet in that too quiet is there a murderer lurking way but her anger - more so, her despair - fueled her bravery or possible idiocy.

It appeared Hailey had really cleaned up her little desk in the office. It was next to Liam's in the already small space. Of course her husband the sodding sultan of everything had the big desk. And the worst bit? She couldn't fault him. For years he'd carried the weight. She'd come from nothing, she knew that. She hadn't successfully broken away from her family and their legion of curses, she'd just done what most women with anything seemed to do, marry away.

Her whole life she dreamed of being the one to help herself, the one who made her own way but the desperation to get out of that council flat and away from her half conscious mother and her boyfriend of the month was too severe. She'd needed sanctuary and for whatever the cost now, Paul had been it.

Some women envied happy marriages, big families, beauty - and she wasn't above some of that herself but her main source of envy was at Paul. He'd been born a man, had a stable if not irritating home life and had reaped the rewards for his healthy white man mediocrity. Sure, he achieved and went above his station now and he'd helped the whole lot of them. Liam, who was never one to work too hard or dream too big, had taken advantage of that too. But now she wondered how much of that was a lack of dreaming and how much of that was the fact there was only room for one dreamer in each family. Only room for one sultan in the palace, one king in the castle and no one and nothing would ever make that role move from Paul Connor - she'd always known this.

She was the Queen by default and in the eyes of those around the Connor clan, she knew she appeared to be the rather brash and bossy desperate housewife, hell playing it up now and again was amusing. When you couldn't beat them, the old adage of join them almost made sense. Until it didn't. Until it hurt.

Hailey was a gem at work. Liam was, more than he should be. And she knew Ryan may love his uncle but she was his favourite. Even Michelle needed her. Life wasn't awful like it could have been but today was a new day. She was older and God help her, she wanted more.

Ignoring a cheating man wasn't an option. It never had been, not even at her worst, really.

She'd need to come to terms with this and she'd need to kick his ass to the curb and bleed him dry of any money that was now rightfully hers. But then what? And how?

What if there was no proof? What if he denied it and worse, why did she want it to be true? Why did she want her husband of nearly 10 years and partner of more than that to be cheating on her? It was betrayal of the highest kind and considering that they were still intimate, it was abusive and unclean.

But it was a way out, wasn't it? It was the one thing that would make everyone know she'd tried her hardest and did the right thing and was innocent of wrongdoings everyone wanted her to always be guilty of.

Men are forgiven. Men, even with no kindness to spare, were given the benefit of the doubt all so often and a woman who dared to have any voice at all was always on the edge of near crucifixion.

His wrongdoing in this most obvious way would be a chance at freedom and she was able to bury the feeling of intense hurt long enough to realize that, but such realizations still required whisky.

She'd gone two weeks plus without drinking, a bit would be fine.

Sitting at her desk, her feet on Liam's, she sipped whisky out of her Queen Bitch coffee mug and let some old tears find their way down her face.

_TBC: I know it's a relative slow burn. but it's moving... ._


	6. Part 6

Part 6 _Wow. Thank you. (Eden, those were brilliant 3) __I don't know if this is what you all were thinking but it's what came out. It's not done… what I thought was going to be five short chapters is, of course, not. So there's more to I hope you like this bit._

Music would have changed the creepy feeling of the factory at night a bit - or made it worse - but as it was, silence was the only thing she could tolerate.

She went slow on her whisky and cleared her throat when the familiar burn reminded her this was likely bad for someone still in recovery. But everything was bad and she was tired. Her family, her husband and her job, all bad. She could have a few bloody sips.

She finally stood and walked towards Paul's desk, she knew she'd not find anything remotely incriminating about affairs at his work desk but she went anyway.

Leading through some papers she came across something suspicious. It was the forms she'd asked him to take care of regarding her children's line. Sure, after her procedure and the judgments of those around her where her uterus was concerned, she had no more desire to design or make any kids wear. But she'd asked him to handle a few things she'd had in the works and it seemed he hadn't.

She took a few breaths to let the rising panic out but it was no use, she started to notice her breathing become shallow, her hands cold, her head ache. She was full on panicking from paperwork not getting done.

If Liam forgot, which he would do, or if she let it all slide or failed she could handle it. If Paul had forgotten because he was worried and spending days with her following surgery that would be okay. But it was none of those things, he'd just not done it. And he'd likely done someone else as well and the former hurt her more and that didn't make sense.

The fact he'd broken vows was worse, objectively. The fact he lied to her and was hurting her and humiliating her was worse. She knew this and knew she'd keenly feel this abuse for years to come but for some reason she couldn't stop shaking when she looked at the paperwork undone. The reminder than she was pretty and sassy and amusing to him since she was a teen and nothing much more. She was not his best friend and surely not his confidante - though she's tried until she was blue in the face - and now she wasn't even his proper bed partner. She was just there as a placeholder woman that she'd never wanted to be. This was more proof he'd never thought her smart or capable or driven enough. Proof every idea she had was a slot or fancy that didn't matter and neither did she. She was with a man who didn't only want another woman, she was with a man who didn't think even highly of woman and that hit her in the gut and made her more ashamed than angry. She was so ashamed and now she wanted to hurt him.

She shoved the stack of papers off the desk and then spit on his chair. Running her hands through her hair and huffing, stomping in her only slightly heeled boots to her whisky drawer and slamming it shut after refilling the amber liquid she was a cacophony of Noise and didn't notice the door click of the footsteps until he was standing in the office doorway.

"Carla? What you doin'?"

He sounded both concerned and confused. A good summation of her Liam some days.

"Plotting a way to kill your brother."

"Okay."

"What you don't believe me?"

"Well I know I wouldn't wanna cross you in a dark alley…" he smiled but gave it up quickly when her eyes darkened. "Okay… but no, I don't. We will get you through this and he'll be sorry and -"

"How."

"Well for start.."

"How Liam. How will we make him sorry.

"Carla I -"

"-Only… I can only think of two things and one is murder and the other is... " she shook her head and laughed.

His neck tensed and he tried to relieve the pressure by cracking it a bit too loudly and then he winced.

"What you said... .anyway, maybe you should sit down." He managed.

"I wish you weren't here," she said. "I wish you hadn't taken care of me that week and been my best friend because then I could use you the way I need to so I can hurt him properly," a biter laugh escape her but her eyes were glassy now.

"You what?"

She shook her head and he stepped forward toward her.

"Nothing Lee-" He took hold of her arms and his eyes were fire.

"Use me?"

"I said if you weren't…" She was losing her usual confidence and unable to make eye contact "What it were only… I only meant…."

He let go of her and went over to Paul's desk and tossed half of the contents off the desk so suddenly she jumped. But unlike when Paul threw things, she wasn't scared.

"Liam…"

"What?" He snapped. "'You know what Carla, maybe you really can be a bitch."

"Excuse -"

"Maybe Paul's right, 'cos he does, you know, call you that weekly if not daily. I hate the way he talks about you and I, yeah, I was there and a lot of good that fucking did me if this is how you think…"

"Liam it was only... I were only saying…"

"You were saying I'm like a... I can't think of a good term, Carla. I'm not you and your clever mouth, but I'm sick of being this pathetic guy in the middle." He said. "Half the time I feel you're my rowing parents and I have to keep peace lest we all die and the other times is trying my fucking best to ignore what I want. So badly because I'm not my brother. I'm not pail and that's the thing. J can't take what I want like he can. I can't be that…."

"What is it?" She asked.

"I was going to say selfish."

"No," she corrected. "What do you want?"

He looked at her with laser focus and let out a defeated laugh.

"Nothing that's mine and nothing that will matter."

"What do you want? Because I'd like to know. Paul doesn't trust me and we don't share. No one lets me in anymore and no one knows me the way you do and I can see Paul's not done the work and that he thinks I'm dumb and I know that despite how wonderful you have been lately, that you doubt me too. So please, at least tell me what the bloody hell you want Liam. Trust me with that much -"

She was cut off by his kiss.

Sharp and sudden in movement but soft and tender in a way that didn't make sense with the frenzied feeling and the strength of his hands as he pushed her to the wall, clattering the blinds.

She paused and half inhaled to only a moment as he urged her to open. Her lips parted and she felt his tongue enter and then she felt herself combat him. Her hand went to hold his head close and finally grip his hair. He moved his hands from her upper arms - one to cradle her cheek and the other to wrap around to the small of her back and pull her closer.

He tasted like whisky - or she did - or they both did. She didn't know what was what, she only knew she needed more. She raised onto her toes a bit and pressed herself closer to him. He sighed. Pulling his lips away for a moment and seeming to be in pain. He was taking a breath and giving her a moment but she didn't want a moment, she wanted him and this.

She pulled him harshly back to her and bit his lower lip. It drove him mad clearly because he grabbed her ass and pulled her as close as he could. She felt him hard against her and if the pain wasn't there she was sure she'd have pushed him onto the desk that moment.

"Liam what are we doing?"

He pulled away and held his head in his hands.

"What I wanted."

They paused. She expected him to bolt and maybe that's what he was about to do when he went to the door and peaked out around the factory. She settled against the wall, leaning because her knees were about to give way.

He came back into the door, his hair a mess from his own nervous habit of constantly running his hands through it or from her gripping it for dear life only moments ago.

"I thought you were about to storm out," she said. "Because that was a mistake, Liam. I can't lose you to a mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake Carla. It was insanity."

"Ouch." She tried for a sarcastic tone but he remained with his eyes fixed to the floor, his breath rather unsteady, his hands in his pockets for a moment in that boyish yet old man way he had about him.

"You kissed me back," it was like a child speaking in how desperately he seemed to want that reassurance and she wanted to give him more of that.

"You're the handsomest man I know and you're…. Of course I kissed you back. Bit you, even. Sorry."

"Please don't apologize."

"I can't. I'm not sorry but I also can't lose you now."

"You're not losing me, Carla."

"I… I want to hit you or bite you again, I don't even know Liam!" She started to pace the room. "You've been there for me and yeah, you're not imagining … this, I dunno.. But I just looked down at that desk I saw that Paul thinks I am truly just his accessory."

Adorably, Liam looked to the desk and obviously saw no proof. It was a quick urge to grab him and kiss his cheek but she stopped herself.

"The paperwork…. I don't want that children's line anymore, but I did until five seconds ago… and he didn't. No one thinks I am anything."

"You're…"

"I'm the woman who in a moment of anger kissed the brother of her husband. Why are you his brother, why can't you be his cousin or his bessie mate. Fuck."

She went for the whisky again and then thought the better of it.

"You just found out your husband is maybe cheating, thanks to me, then I do this. I understand what it looks like…. Like I…."

"Planned this? Seriously Liam, I'd never imagine you to be that calculating," she almost laughed. "But that doesn't change the fact…"

"I can't do this," he said.

"What?"

"All of it," he said. "I can't pretend I'm sorry for him, or even for you right now."

She nodded. "Does it seem like I need that?! I'm scared Liam. I'm fucking terrified that before I even lose that no good brother of yours I will lose you n'all… because I couldn't control my self from mauling you and then-" She paused noticed what looked like a hiccup. Upon another look, she saw, he was stifling a laugh.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me, Liam."

"Just…." he let out a laugh and leaned against the opposite desk.

"What the hell is funny?"

"This. Us. And you… mauling me."

"You're flattered and giggling…. "

"Apparently you couldn't control yourself, Carla." He said with those stupid blue eyes twinkling at her. "I wasn't sorry but I knew I should say it since I kissed you… but apparently I'm the victim of a mauling and you could not help yourself so…"

She picked up a pen and threw it at him. He laughed. She picked up another two and then another and tossed them all at him. He dodged all but one and then she laughed as well. Close to the biggest stress relief she could imagine.

"Next is the stapler if you don't shut your mouth and stop making me…" she gave in and fell into the giggles she'd failed to hold back.

"Ow."

He rushed to her side. "What is it?"

"Well," she smiled as she gasped a bit. "Oww… well, I haven't laughed this much since being scraped out and so, ouch! Wow, good thing you're usually not that funny huh."

He stroked her hair and let his eyes lock on her.

"Liam…"

"Why don't we sit and have a drink."

"Why?"

"So I can prove to you that it will take more than our shared insanity to get rid of me."

He wasn't sorry and he wasn't sure where and what he would allow himself to do next but he wasn't about to let her feel like it was Paul or him. He didn't want to be her revenge. He didn't even know what he could handle beyond the feeling of this moment and he saw how broken she'd been just moments ago from whatever the hell Paul did or didn't do with her paperwork.

"Earth to Liam?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

"Here." He said, "Always. Like I said I'd be."

At this she leaned closer to him. Those stupid blue eyes, that stupid crooked grin and messed hair. That person that was there beside her and remained when no one else would. Thirty bloody seconds ago the only thing she could think of was that she'd never wanted to kiss someone more in her entire life but she'd never felt more sick at the idea of it as well.

Revenge was a beautiful idea until it made her appear even worse than Paul to anyone who would know. They'd say, sure, you had to get your own back but with his brother? Surely not, Carla. How could you?! No one cared what men did, and everyone cared what a loud woman did. Paul could beat someone to death and someone somewhere would excuse it, but she could sneeze the wrong way and be loathed. Sure, it sounded hyperbolic but it didn't feel it. It was one thing to stoop to his low but this would outdo him in nearly everyone's opinion. And Liam… she just kept having this panic in her chest that blood is so much thicker than water and despite wanting him so badly just then, one day he'd think her nothing more than some trash slapper who ruined his relationship with his beloved asshole of a brother. She wanted to believe he'd never betray her that way but that family was so fucking close in the most irritating and dysfunctional ways. Passive aggressive loathing and yet intense loyalty. Like the bloody mafia. "The Connor-corleones" she thought to herself.

But now, all he had to say was that he was always there and she could make herself risk it all for one more moment of comfort. Maybe she had her mother's will power, or lack thereof, after all.

Before she could test that theory and lean any closer, her mobile rang.

He looked at it, vibrating and buzzing like a damn sodding monster bee over and over. It was Paul, they both knew before even reading the caller iD, because of course it was.

"Always did have the best timing," Liam muttered, looking more stricken than he'd like to let on.

She moved toward the phone and paused. What was less hurtful, what said too much? Answering? Ignoring it? She looked at Liam for permission and hated herself for it.

He didn't say or do a thing, he just seemed frozen and tired.

She picked it up and hoped he'd just hang up, but after what felt like the one millionth ring, she answered. "Yes?"

"Well that's a fine way to answer. Always sweet, my wife." she felt the bile rising, she felt like whatever was left inside her wanted to come out now.

"Yes?" She said again.

"Charming. Listen, I called 'Chelle and she said she was out with you, but that you went home hours ago. Though you're not here."

"Worried?"

"Well, I am your husband so I do try." He was only partially sarcastic and that was the thing, the man really did maybe believe all of that. That he was trying.

How violent could a stomach feel before one wretched, she wondered, because at that moment now was possibly the sickest she'd ever felt. Liam looked worse. Sitting at the edge of his desk, head bowed down like in a desperate prayer or equally strong urge to wretch, he only inhaled slowly and shook his head so slightly she almost missed it. He could hear him, she knew, her phone was loud and the factory deathly quiet.

"All okay?"

"Yup," she lied. "I will be home soon."

"Okay, I have an early meeting with Tim and Robin tomorrow about a new set of orders so I may be in bed by the time you get in, but I'm there."

"Okay." She said. "Robin with an i or y?"

"I," he said. "Y left the country a while back."

"Right," she said. "Okay, Goodnight."

"Night."

He hung up and felt herself shiver. That one small and pathetic fantasy of leaving him with her head held high, wearing killer heels and a fuck you grin, that fantasy was gone. She knew the moment she'd heard his voice it would never end in the way she'd told herself it would - had it needed to come to that.

"Come on, I'll drive you home."

She nodded.

The drive was short but felt like the same panic-filed eternity she'd known just before surgery. Worse.

She had this strange feeling when they pulled into the car park of her building that she was a kid again, coming home to a house filled with lies and alcohol after a weekend of fun and laughs at a friend's functional home for a sleepover. It felt unfair and yet like the curse she'd accepted as her lot.

I want to be adored played on the radio and she stifled her ironic laugh.

Before she could get out, Liam placed his hand on hers. He said nothing, a side glance and then both remained fixed at the blackened scene in front of them. The nothingness of night without much of a moon in a dirty corner of a car park where one street lamp was burnt out.

They sat for a few moments, she wasn't sure how long, and his hand just rested on hers and her fingers gently stroked his.

_"__[music] I don't need to sell my soul, He's already in me. I want to be adored."_

TBC


	7. Part 7

_It's been a LONG while. I was... unable to write for a bit. Anyway. If you're still interested, this is my sloppy attempt at getting back into the swing of things. Not a very dramatic swing, mind, but I know where it will go. :)_

"It's not a big deal," He said as they put down some groceries on the counter. Carla hung her coat - rather, tossed it on the sofa, and ignored that burning in her chest for the millionth time in their marriage. It was burning in her chest or a syncing pit in her stomach.

"Just come off it," she let out.

"What?" He went on, he always did. "She was a young, cute version of you so if anything looking at her was a compliment!"

She wanted to laugh but she just settled for smacking her hand on the slamming the fridge as she put away the milk.

"You're unbelievable, it's …. No you must actually be trying to piss me off.. What were it called that I heard Rosie say the other day at the cafe, you're negging me - or something. Making me feel bad or trying but…"

"Okay, okay. Not a cute version, I mean you are cute. You're hot. Everyone knows my wife is hot. Obviously no one better than me. I just meant a younger version and it reminded me of when we met,"

"I'm currently in my 30s but you make me feel like we're 75 and sitting on rocking chairs. Sod off."

"Don't be so emotional, love," He said, trying to give her a kiss on the neck as he came up behind her.

At that most painful of cliche lines she froze and then pushed him away, giving in to a big witchy cackle. "Now I know you're trying to bother me because if you think I want you anywhere near me whilst you just drooled over a barely legal checkout girl while I was standing next to you…:You know what, whatever this thing you do is… it's not working anymore. I don't feel so bad, Paul, I feel sad for you because I see a sad middle aged man either way. Whether you're winding up your wife or just prefer teenage girls.'

He was about to cut her off, like he always did. She didn't have it in her for a knock down drag out fight today, so she slammed and locked the bedroom door.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she considered what she always did lately: texting Liam. But she stopped herself - a memory of only a few nights ago seared into her brain as she simply sat there with a song they loved playing and held hands. That's it. Nothing more and it was pain.

Much like the pain that was only just now slowly subsiding in her abdomen. Had she even thought about this a few short weeks ago? Had she not figured she should tell her good for nothing husband - a man she used to love and even like - that she was getting a real operation for her uterus. Was she ever going to risk seeing his patriarchal judgemental bullshit when she told him she may not be the perfect woman. Facing him would be awful. But not worse than this half life, surely.

She waited to hear Paul go into the bathroom and then grabbed her bag and the keys and left. Texting Liam was not the answer, but seeing him - wrong or right - might be.

Arriving at number 7 she knocked, hoping against hope that no one else was there. Sister in law or not, everyone always observed them. She'd pretended not to notice sometimes but there was always at least one or two people at any point in their lives and gave them the once over when they were together. Whether that meant they looked so good together or had illicit faces, she didn't know.

He opened the door, covered in flour and looking exasperated.

"Hey Leebugs ...I…" she stifled a laugh "What's all this?" Peaking around his shoulder she checked to see if someone else was there.

"It's just me, which is why this is the state of me… ah… come in." His crooked smile never wavered as she passed him by and plopped her coat on the staircase railing.

"So, again, what's all this?"

He was about to toss try and mock her back but he was seeing her smile so widely for the first time in a while and he couldn't. She stood there, staring at him and asked simply. "Well?"

"Okay but don't laugh."

"I can promise you, if I need to…. I will."

"Typical. You can never just say 'sure Liam.'"

"Now where's the fun in that?" She asked.

"Well, long story short, I'm making cookies…. For uh.." He trailed off. "

"For what?!"

"A church bake sale," he mumbled.

"You never!" She gave into her throaty cackle and shoved him playfully. "Let me get my mobile and video this ...this moment."

"Okay, laugh all you want. It's just my luck."

"Liam, you don't even go to church unless your mum is 'round."

"Emily… She was walking down the street chatting with Rita and I was texting and I… well i bumped right into her. Hard."

"You hurt Emily?!"

"She says no… but yer, I did. She just got jostled and worse yet she dropped her whole tray of cookies. Apparently her oven is on the fritz so she was at Rita's getting it done for tonight's summat rather at the church and…"

"Did you offer to pay her like a normal person?"

He pulled a face.

"Too fancy you. Money money money. What about the good honest work of yer hands eh?"

"She didn't want store bought then."

"No indeed. She did not," he sighed. "Rita, of course, was well mad - much more than Emily and that I could deal with - used to YOU after all. But Emily did that sad puppy that's been kicked face and- "

"Because you kicked her."

"I did not kick her!" He replied, tossing his dishrag at her. "I just, jostled her and made her lose two hours or baking. She was clearly a bit out of sorts - taking on too much as it was according to Rita who was all too eager to shout that at me. And so I said I'd buy then but Emily was horrified store bought cookies from her would be at church and…. Rita kept on glaring at me. I tried to wave over Sally Webster but she was shouting at Kevin and I panicked and said 'no harm done, gimme the recipe and I got this.'"

"And they… they believed you?!" She giggled.

"No… not as such. But then I called them…" He looked down shyly and smirked. "Sexist."

"I died. Just now. First off why? Second, you, Leebugs, looked Emily and Rita in the face and called them SEXIST."

"Well i said it was sexist to assume I could not do it. At least it made Rita laugh and Emily…. Confused."

"And here we are."

"I honestly wouldn't give a toss had it been Norris or Mary or Ken but it was Emily and…. Roy was watching."

She let out another loud, loud laugh and smacked his shoulder. "That would do it."

"Anyway."

"Need help?"

"From YOU?!" He laughed. "I need to have these done, not make her really want to kill me."

"Hey. I can HELP, even if not great in the kitchen, clearly neither are you. You have more flour on you than in the bowl."

"I am not opposed to help for this… "

"Ridiculous situation."

"Yeah.."

They began measuring the ingredients and Carla put on Liam's have Brit pop mix and it was almost like the old days for fifteen minutes. Almost."

"So be more careful idiot."

"With what?" He asked.

"Walking and texting. Be careful. Who were you texting anyway in the middle of the road."

"It were the pavement… and," he ran his usual nervous hands through his hair and then scoffed at the move, and the flour left behind. She laughed and swatted some of the white out.

"You."

"What?"

"You," he said, looking at her more intensely than he'd let himself since she arrived. "i .. I've missed you. And sod off if you mock me for saying that, but after the other night Carla…"

"I know. What you think I came her because of." She looked down at the crooked cookie and repounded the dough. "Well that and…"

"Paul."

"Yeah. I'm sorry Liam."

"For what?" For a second he hated himself for being this pathetic. So pathetic as to fear she was going to say she missed him but they were good like this and Paul was forgiven once again. At some point he really had always had his brothers back. But she became family to and even if she wasn't some cursed constant desire, even if she was boring and dowdy, she wouldn't have deserved to have her husband treat her like that. Brother or not. Fuck he wished she was boring or dowdy. Life would have been so much easier if she was not always the most vibrant spot in the room for him.

"I didn't think I could text you about how much I hate him, how much I am trying to think of a way to walk away. And i am… I am walking away. I have done, in me head anyway, already. I just, he keeps holding the power."

He put down the cookie he'd just cut and looked at her. "Has he hurt you?"

"He's thrown things and bloody well murdered my pride and any feelings I have left but no, not… not truly."

"Not truly ever?"

"Liam. I don't want to talk about any of this."

"Leave him Carr. It's okay. What bloody power."

"He says things Liam, makes that me that poor weak girl again over and over. I don't want to seem like some screaming banshee nagging sitcom wife who loses it cos he thinks the checkout girl is fit."

"What?"

"The usual. You're always great until he has you. Then you're his own damaged goods."

Liam's hands balled into fists but he said nothing.

"This isn't how this is supposed to go."

"No."

"I need a better moment. And I need proof of at least affairs to take him for all he's bloody worth."

"At the cost of going insane staying wit 'im."

"Yes." She said flatly. "Just, for now."

"Well you can stay here…. Wit me for…"

"Leave him and stay here. You think anyone would be okay with that?"

"I meant tonight."

"Oh…. now it's my turn to say please ignore what I said and sod off."

"I know what you meant….and…"

He turned her so she was up against the counter and put one arm on each side of her, trapping her against a mess of flour and between his arms. "I am having a really hard time forgetting about the other night."

"Oh?"

"Don't do that sexy coquettish thing, I'm already dying."

"Big word for you."

"Don't be daft." He said, leaning in. "I do not want this."

"Okay."

"But, what the fuck am I supposed to do when it's also all I want."

"Liam I…"

"He's already proven he's not good, so so many times, can't I for once not be the good little Liam to dear old big bro...can't I just…"

He leaned in, cupping one side of her face and let his breath tease her lips for a moment. His eyes closing but open enough to see how wide eyed she was for a moment, surprised, struggling, wanting.

"Kiss me Liam, before I scream."

His smile was the first thing she felt and then her lips opened for his. His tongue slowly began to explore her and she urged him on, bit his lower lip ever so slightly like she already knew he liked. A groan escaped him and she pushed himself square against her. She felt his hard length against her stomach and shifted to get closer.

"Fuck." She muttered as she squirmed to get closer.

"You really will be the death of me…." he breathed against her ear before licking the side of her neck.

"Take me with you then."

At this (unintended) phrase, he turned and hoisted her onto the counter, the one place Emily's special secret ingredient sugar cookies were not.

He was consumed but froze when she winced.

"Shit, I forgot. It hasn't been that long, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No," she laughed. I just half sat on a cookie cutter. Ow."

He took it from her hand and tossed it onto the ground.

She stared at him smiling, but waiting to see if that momentary pause was enough for either of them to find their heads and come back to reality. Fuck, she hoped not.

He moved towards her, spread her legs apart and stood between her thighs, caressing her arm, her face. "How can you always be so beautiful?"

She feigned an arrogant expression and as he kept looking at her it changed. He'd never seen that before, the well earned pride in herself fade to… it could not be shyness.

"Hey," he said. "I shouldn't 'ave, I know i…"

"Liam. You talk too much."

She reached for him kissed his long and hard until the doorbell rang.

"Because of course." she mumbled.

"It's definitely Satan…. Or my mother, because."

She laughed and hopped off the counter, now wincing at the intenral pain after all.

"You daft cow, I could have helped you."

"What can I say Leebugs, I'm used to helping myself."

For one more second he considered ignoring the door and holding her, but then came the knocking.

"Coming!" He shouted.

"But not actually…."

He looked at her like she was both hilarious and evil and she bit her lip to stop from laughing.

"Hey, the cookies - all four dozen - are ready to be baked now. Shouldn't be long," she could hear him at the door.

"Oh that's fine. Thank you." Emily said. "Only as it happens, i rather don't know how I will get them there. My ride, a friend from church, is unable to pick me up and carrying all of those on the bus.

There was no point in hiding if it was Emily, Carla considered and walked to the door. "I can give you the money for a cab… I know fixed income and all that."

Liam shook his head.

"Oh hello Mrs. Connor."

"Carla, Emily, please."

"How nice of you to help Liam … and how nice of Liam to help me out," she quickly added.

"Well woman's touch n'all that." Carla said smiling.

"Help?" he mocked. "More a hindrance, our Carla, in the kitchen anyway."

"Oh I'm sure she helped a lot. Thank you. And it's not that I cannot take the bus, only that…."

"We can drop you and the cookies off Emily."

"Oh no no, well the cookies would be a help."

"After nearly running you down, he'd be glad you."Carla but in.

"He didn't, well...er… run be down…."

"We'd be glad to take you Emily, you said they bake for about twenty minutes, so in about an hour or so we should be close to ready."

"Oh that's fine, thank you ever so much Liam," Emily said.

"I will be back here in just over an hour and the both of you can come to church!"

She smiled and as she left Carla rather thought she liked Emily. Until.

"You're a very good sister." She said.

"In law…" Liam mumbled.

"I guess we're going confession," she said, deadpan, exhausted.

"Actually, she's church of England so…"

"Don't fuck with my jokes Liam, it's all we have right now."

He half smiled and walked back to the kitchen. "You coming along?"

"I have nowhere else to be."

"I meant the kitchen."

"No, we have no time to burn this batch … and… we will if… so… set your timer and I'll, i'll just go upstairs for a wee bit."

"Don't you go and abandon me." He warned as she went upstairs.

"Have I ever done that" she yelled rather jovially already halfway up his stairs.

"Only the once." he said, no to one.

tbc.


	8. Part 8

_Y'all are so sweet. Keep reading so i have a reason to bother :p _  
_Seriously thought, appreciated. _

They dropped Emily off at the church, brought the cookies to the small reception hall in the back and were about to make their way out when Emily stopped them. "It's just a small Evensong service but it would be awfully nice to…"

"Well, I'm Catholic so…" Liam began.

Carla had to choke back a cough. "You're about as Catholic as… well, me. Which is not."

"You know, church is church. Same god and…"

"We'll stay."Carla said sweetly as Emily went to say hello to a friend.

Liam went to peak out the window. "Nope…. Seems okay."

"What?"

"No pigs flying and yet somehow Carla bloody Connor said we'd stay at church. And me man int even here to force us so I dunno what's goin' on."

"I didn't want to disappoint her," She said.

"Softy."

"And I didn't want to go home."

He paused, about to reach out to her then stopped and balled his hands into fists. "You know…" Carr, I'd never make you go home. We could have…"

"What Liam? Gone back to yours."

He said nothing.

"Maybe this is a good place to be stuck. Maybe I need confession," she tried to make it sound funny but he saw the sadness and slight turbulence reflected in her eyes.

"Well now, you really do know nothing. There's no confession at this church!"

He smiled at the tactic and shrugged. "Yeah well sod off."

At that an older woman walked by clucking her tongue in disapproval.

"It's almost like we're kids again." She said smirking.

That should be cute, funny even. God knew it was true. But he didn't want to think of the past today. He felt shit enough already.

The service was simple and short. The choir, minus one tone deaf old woman, was very good. Carla doubted they turned away those eager to partake and sing but she felt, even God would understand had they turned that woman who sounded like a wounded wart hog away.

Emily said she would catch a ride with one of the older bake sale volunteers. Liam nodded as he could not speak with all the snacks he felt inhaling.

"Typical," Carla murmured, getting into the driver's seat.

"What?" He said, mouth full.

"Faced with an extremely good looking lost sheep, those church ladies went mental and could not stop feeding you."

"Lost sheep?"

"Not a church boy… not a good boy. And -"

"And apparently VERY good looking," he said, grinning and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Is this supposed to make me embarrassed, that you caught me calling you good looking? Liam if we were young maybe but you KNOW what you look like and also…. Maybe since my face attacked your face earlier, it's a given."

He coughed and then nodded.

"Now who's shy."

"Confused. Not shy."

"Bullshit. Confusion is ours to own, but you've always been a tad…"

"Not shy Carr." He looked at her severely. "Just… struggling to hold back."

They sat in silence and she turned the car off the main road and down a side street. She pulled over, inhaled, seemed to stare at nothing and sighed. He didn't have the nerve to say another thing.

"You canNOT say something like that to me whilst I'm driving Leebugs."

The use of her daft nickname for him calmed him but she seemed so shaken and annoyed.

She turned to face him, muttering obscenities as she flung off her seatbelt. There were numerous things to say, even more she should not but distractions were not helping. No song on the radio, no stupid novel, no work project and not even church with Emily Bishop.

"What do you mean?" He let out. Same worried boyish expression he wore whenever facing something not always easy.

"You tell me you are always… struggling and that's why you seem shy sometimes. And I'm no shrinking violet, Liam. I am the kind of woman who reads into those remarks for exactly what they are. You can't tell me you struggle not to… to…"

"Fucking ravish you?"

She gasped, annoyed as hell at herself for a very regency heroine reaction. "Yes," she breathed. "You can't tell me that while I'm driving. I mean you likely should not tell me that at all. But especially when I can't even clench my thighs together."

He read the dirty remark and felt like suddenly his jeans were too tight but he also wanted to laugh. Fucking hell, how did she always manage to make him turned on and wanting to just have a laugh. That and often rip his hair out.

"Yes," she said, And she didn't even know why she'd said that affirmation again. Maybe it was, she realized, more of a request. More of a 'please.'

"Carla…." he took off his seatbelt and she bit her plump bottom lip. Hell, he'd seen her do that so many times, all of which affected him. But now… not the context wasn't cloudy. They both knew what it meant and to whom she meant it and he had no bloody idea how to not react exactly as he had earlier in his kitchen, reaching for her and panting like a desperate teenager.

His hand held her face and she held it. Not moving an inch closer. "Liam… I…"

"You need?"

She let out her throaty laugh. "Ha, I need so many things, right now especially, but not in this car and not … yet."

"I can't believe what I'm like. I should be so sorry right now, so angry… I am angry but more than we're not in my room and less about the fact I'm going straight to hell."

"You?" She squeezed his hand and let out a very sad smile. He might." He was heavy on her tongue, the name of her husband would not come out. "Me? Maybe. You, never."

"Don't be a cow," he said, rubbing her chin with his thumb and smirking. "You know no one knows better than I that while you're fucking mardy and enraging most days you're also a fucking soft touch."

"A soft touch?" she beamed, and tried to be sarcastic. "Never!"

"Take us home, please."

She bit her lip again. "Liam...I…"

"We will figure out what to say but I just want us to not end this evening like this right here."

"You know boys in school would say similar things and they always only meant one thing and -"

"Drive, woman."

She laughed and took them back to number 7.

"I don't want tea," she said, a downturned expression and annoyance in her eyes.

"But surgery…"

"It wasn't a heart transplant Liam! And it were weeks ago. I am okay to have a wee bit.. Just a dram… please."

He stood up and went to the cabinet and returned with two glasses.

"What? That easy?"

"I didn't want to hear you say 'please' again… you'll kill me."

She moved her feet up under her on the settee and moved closer to him. "Do you remember how many times we've sat and drank together like this. Even when we'd nearly have a knock down row?"

"I rather not think about it to be honest."

She frowned and nudged his arm.

"Every time, every time I felt like this only without knowing for sure if you felt the same hell as I did and maybe you did not but…"

"I did," she said then shook her head. "Well, truth be told, maybe not. Not at first. I thought it was butterflies for a hot young guy who was there. Normal like. I thought it was fun. I liked how he controlled me… bossed me about just enough to make me feel like I could for once not be the only grown up I knew."

He didn't expect all of that. He really did not and it hurt and helped.

"I was so fucking young when we met. God, how I wanted the cliche saviour… no burning bras for me I guess."

"I don't think it makes you old fashioned…"

"Still can be a feminist then?" she joked, but her smile never reached her eyes.

"Yes," he was too serious. Liam was never that serious unless he entered a sulk and she hated not knowing, for once, what he'd say next. "You were young and bloody raised yourself and you wanted a some care… simple really. Who doesn't want that?"

"You."

"I always had it Carr. Mam is annoying. Dad is … rather whipped. But I had them and Paul. And he should have taken care of you and -"

"I have a roof over me head and a life where I am not in those flats… I have a lot… but I misjudged the woman he'd want in return. Liam, I hate him. You have to love him but I don't. I can't be with someone even one more time who… who's fucking laying with some tart one minute and hurting my feelings for no fucking reason the next. I need to leave."

He nodded. "I want to kill the man who hurt you and yet why does it have to be him."

"Why does it have to be you I'm sat here with… wanting to lean in and forget the rest of my shit life?"

He wanted to say how he'd been cursing "why her" for years not but he was tired of confessions. She was right, he was not very Catholic.

So he did what felt much more natural. He wrapped his arm around her and let her snuggle up against him.

"This is mad," she said. Not he felt her smile against his chest as she snuggled even closer. She felt she damn well needed to inhale him to ground her.

"Yes," he said, kissing her head lightly. "You can take my room. I will sleep in the shit guest one."

"Liam that's not -"

"It is necessary…."

"He will wonder where I am…"

As if by magic - and the rule of awful timing - Liam heard his phone buzzing on the table. He knew who it would be.

She was quiet and then reached for his phone, her smile now one of sheer pain and irony. "He's your brother. I am not forgetting that." She handed him the phone.

He got up and paced to the kitchen, his hand running through his messy hair and answered. "Heya."

"Hey," Paul said. His voice was neutral but then why shouldn't it be. Liam shook his head, trying to ward off the knife size pain in his chest - guilt - no matter how shit his brother was being, he knew what the feeling was, guilt. Same feeling he'd pushed away since the night he met Carla and felt a pang of intense sadness and rage when Paul charmed her so easily.

He'd been little more than a boy - a daft one at that. He knew all the reasons he was where he was now and if Paul had any sense and any loyalty and any idea how lucky he'd been than Liam could maybe, just maybe, have gotten through the rest of his half life looking for others, being the good boy he'd always just about been.

"Earth to Lia,. You there?" Paul was smiling. Liam could hear it.

"Yer I am… sorry, was just… busy in the kitchen."

"Yeah well don't strain yourself," Paul said. "Let's go get some food and a pint."

"Food?"

"Yes food, Liam, that stuff we eat to survive and enjoy…listen, you alright?"

"Yeah...yer i'm fine."

Carla looked at Liam and saw the hunch in his shoulders, the tension in his hand holding the phone, heard his awkward replies. She felt like the trash Helen Connor would think she is, playing brother against brother. Never mind there was no playing, she still half agree in that moment. Liam deserved to have his brother, idiot or not.

She stood up and grabbed her coat and keys.

When he heard the shuffling Liam turned around and motioned for her not to leave. SHe paused but had made up her mind.

He hung up the phone after some mumbling and went to her. She was shaking her head with a sad and defeated smile. "Go have your tea…" she said, avoiding his gaze while she got her jacket on. "Just go and if he asks, say i'm out with Michelle or shopping - he seems to think I only like shopping and wine. I'm a desperate housewife parody to him so he will believe it all."

"Carla.."

"No, Liam. Thank you letting me hang out with you. And before you say anything, I know we're us… I know you 'ave me back. Always. Don't worry."

She barely looked at him as she left the house and he felt her sadness in his bones. Or was that his.

Liam sat down in a booth in the unicorn that was a slightly more upscale Rovers - offering more than hot pots anyway - as Paul came back to the table with his pint. "She said she'd bring over the rest. But I really needed this, fuck." he downed half his pint as Liam fidgeted with the coaster on the table.

"Something gone on?" Liam asked, not knowing if he wanted it to be good or bad.

"Can't I just want to see me own little brother?" Paul laughed when Liam raises one eyebrow.

"Hey!"

"We see each other most every day...work, pub...repeat - wow what exciting lives we lead." Liam muttered.

"Oh no," Paul let out on a breath and leaned back pushing his beer a bit away. "Don't tell me you're in one of your sulks. You don't seem the existential crisis type lil bro, but every so often there comes this dark cloud and we're all in for the Liam sulk."

"How am I sulking jus' cos I admit we live very boring lives."

"It's life innit?" Paul shrugged.

Fuck there was so much in that shrug he should have known before. Was Paul actually okay with the status quo, the humdrum, the work and hardly no play and rinse and repeat or was he okay with it because he got his taboo bad boy jollies off somewhere he should not? Or was he in a deeper and ore perpetual sulk and this was… just a front.

Liam hated himself for only started to be even remotely perceptive in his 30s. What a fucking late bloomer, he thought bitterly. No one Carla hadn't been - he stopped himself from finishing the thought and tried to smile politely at the waitress as she brought him his beer and chips and Paul his burger. But his lips barely tilted enough for her to register it.

Paul noticed and cocked his head to the side. "You sure you're feeling alright?"

"Nah, just life and a headache innit." Liam half echoed his earlier statement trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice

Paul clinked their glasses and shook his head. "Lee, you gotta buck up, you're bad company."

"I don't exist just to help you have a good time."

"Wow!" Paul scoffed and laughed at once and the sound was grating. "Now you sound exactly like your sister in law."

It was weird, he'd heard it a million times but he hit him oddly this time. He could have said "my wife" or "our Carla" as he usually did. Why sister in law this time. Because life was cruel, that's why. He'd known that for years, smiling or not.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Liam asked.

"That you're doing me head in mostly," Paul said, rolling his eyes. "Did I SAY you only exist for that reason? You exist cos mam and da drank a bit too much wine one night is likely the reason."

Liam could barely muster up the energy to pull a sickened face as usual. At this Paul actually looked concerned for half a moment.

"Okay, since you're immovable in your sour mood I'll get to the point, since apparently there is no fun to be had, can you fill in for me at the factory Friday… we have a meeting with a supplier. But I can't make it."

"Usually you don't trust me all that much."

"It's an easy client."

Wrong answer, Liam thought. But of course it was.

"Where you off to?" He asked, more concerned for Carla than for his own pride.

"I have a meeting with a potential investor down south, quick dinner and drinks meet later on Friday but may stay til Sunday."

"Because?" Liam had never been a great actor, and Paul pulled a face.

"Why the inquisition?" Paul asked.

"One question is the inquisition?"

"You really do spend too much time with our Carla."

"Someone should…" He didn't know if he'd said that by accident or on purpose.

"You have summat to say, brother?" Paul asked, leaning back and trying to read the conflicting expressions dancing across Liam's face.

"No," he shook his head and looked up. It wasn't a give away to express remote concern. Hell his mother near hated Carla and this would have her even poking and prying in disappointment. Vows were vows. "Only… is there something you want to say to me?"

"You asking if …" He shook his head. "Get yer mind out of the gutter. I flirt and laugh like you and like any other read blooded man I have eyes, I look."

"Just look?" Shut up Liam, he could hear Carla in his ear. She did not want his or anyone's interference.

"Yeah just look. Why?"

"You're acting cagey is all."

"Me?" Paul let out another half laugh. "Pot kettle kid."

Liam shrugged.

"I like that you're trying to keep me honourable. Mam would be proud."

"Funny." Liam snorted.

"Well, don't fret ok. I'll be back Sunday.

Liam texted Carla when he got back to his. No reply. No reply after his shower, a guilt ridden and confusing shower that had him first trying to relax and wash away the guilt and tension and then had him rubbing one out thinking of how she looked at him in the car only hours earlier. How she bit her lip, saying he should not say such things to her in public. The small movement that showed she was clenching her thighs. The way her eyes held his. The way she shivered when he touched her.

No reply after the shower. No reply as he got into bed.

Just before he was about to drift off his phone - usually on vibrate but now left on loud - let out an awkward bleep.

"I'm not good at ignoring you." it said.

He smiled and sat up.

"Good." he replied.

"Very bad actually."

Before he could reply she'd sent another. "Don't say summat cheesy now."

He laughed and deleted his message.

"Can you sleep?" he asked.

She replied with, "Maybe after."

"After what?" he asked, his hand already moving to his crotch.

"After I figure out a way to relax myself."

He paused, waiting for her follow up.

"Just know that. Goodnight Leebugs. Xx"

He knew that was the last message for the night, but it was enough. It was both too much and not enough actually but it would do.

TBC.


	9. Part 9

Ta for reading. xx

"Oh what is he like?!" Michelle exploded into the room at the back of the Rovers where she'd told Carla to wait.

"What's with her?" Liz asked, looking behind the couch cushions, an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

"Doing her best sitcom entrance, I gather," Carla said over her glass of wine.

"Ryan!" Michelle blurted out. "Teenagers are sent to kill us all, I'm sure of it. Does me head in, that one….and what are you doing?"

Liz looked up. "Searching for me lighter. Steve says i should quit and i know he's hid it and…"

Michelle motioned to the top of the mantle. "Right where you left it."

"Ah….ta," and with that Liz lit up and left out the back.

Carla put down her wine and shoved out a chair for Michelle. "Sit. You're making me dizzy. Now what's gone on?"

"Ryan is being such a little…. It's like where did my sweet little boy go? How can he be so stupid to think…"

"To think?" Carla repeated. "Well teenage boys, teenagers full stop, they don't rather...think."

"He thinks that I'm going to let him go away for the weekend with mates at HIS age and have you seen the girl he wants to go with, oh she's no girl, that much i can tell you."

"Chelly, I love you, but… you were younger than him when you were knocked up so…"

Michelle tossed the cork at her and shook her head. "I know that! Don't you think I know that! But this woman… cos she int no girl… she's, Carla she's like 6 years older than Ryan I'm sure."

"Well then you're safe. Younger men don't start to look good to women until they're at least… oh I dunno 32?"

"Oh you into younger men now?"

"I'll let you know when I turn 32." At this they both burst out laughing and poured more wine.

"You know we don't do this enough, and I think I need more adult company more often," Michelle said. "Between Steve, Ryan and Amy…. I am sick of kids."

She smirked but cocked her head to the side. "Come to think of it, where the hell have you been at. It's been weeks of you being MIA and even before months of you being cagey."

"I had surgery." Carla let out before a big sip. Enough had happened in the last few weeks that she thought this the lesser of the secrets to reveal.

"You what?!" Michelle gasped. "Carla are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, as you see… just… you know this is the bit I hate. Catching people up is so boring. Hey wanna go to film?"

"Carla!"

"Oh alright."

She told Michelle about the procedure and let Michelle ask some daft questions. Fertility wasn't top of mind, and how the hell could it be when top of mind was the illicit kisses and borderline sexting she'd nearly started with her brother in law.

Michelle and her were a fragile pair. They'd never really been like sisters - and no small part was the edge she lived on in her relationship with Paul. And they'd never been bessie mates, but they, as they aged, seemed to be finding a very good rhythm and losing that had been one of her big fears - along with being murdered by Helen.

"As you see, I. Am. Fine. Now can we not talk about this?"

"I know what you're like when you get it in your mind to be done with something, I also know i can push you, but I won't. I am just really mad that you didn't think I could or would help you out. That you could trust me to take care of you."

"I would have, had I needed it, Chelly. Promise." Carla pushed her glass away, all of a sudden not even in the mood for wine. "I just like to do things me own way, you know that."

"Not ever accepting help, yeah I know that."

Carla smirked and nodded. It was an old act, a basic one she was used to playing along with. She was the cold, hardened woman who never asked for help - unless it came in cash from her husband - at least that was the way they world saw her and she'd let them, if only because she knew they'd rarely see the other sides. The sides Liam kept reminding her he was finally seeing or maybe always had. Fuck.

"What goes on between you and me brother is none of mine," Michelle started and Carla looked white as a sheet. "What… what did I say? Is everything okay between you and Paul?"

Carla swallowed and bit her lip, what an idiot. When would Liam not be on her mind.

"The truth is Chelle, I… things are not…"

Ryan came in, bless him, at that moment shouting about how embarrassing it was to be the only one not allowed to go away for the weekend.

Carla felt her mobile vibrate and knew who it was. "It's been a few days… everything ok?"

She sighed and texted back. "With Chelle and Ryan right now. I'm fine."

He was typing a reply but she beat him. "I need to see you."

He stopped replying for a while and she wondered if she'd made a mistake when a reply came back. "Now? Where?"

She replied. "I can just come to yours. But not now. 7 or 8?"

"See you then." He'd replied before she'd even processes why she was saying she needed to see him.

Paul was away again, only for the day but she wasn't even thinking of who he could be with or what he was doing. He'd already made a mockery of her and their marriage and he'd broken her self esteem and her ability to even walk away the way she'd wanted so far. She was not going to worry about him tonight. Herself, that was another matter entirely.

A text to Paul said that she was going to pop by Liam's on the way to see Michelle, it seemed an easy lie and an easier one to make true if need be. He'd not responded for an hour and then only to say they should try not to kill each other without him there. How could she feel guilt considering all he'd done and yet there it was, this burdening feeling this pain in her chest that had everything to do with the years of silly memories and nothing to do with whoever he'd become to her now.

She let herself in with the key he'd given them ages ago and saw him walking down the stairs, his hair wet, spots of water on his plane dark gray T shirt.

"Hey." He said, locking the door behind her.

"Hey yourself." She took in his obviously just showered state and felt her mouth go dry.

"You want anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"Whisky."

"Was my next offer," he gave her that crooked grin she'd seen so many times - and countless times aimed at silly women in pubs and hell even to much older women in shops. She wanted to curse it's effectiveness but she laughed at herself instead.

"Earth to Carla," Liam waved a hand in her face. "Take off your coat and sit down or something."

"What if I don't have anything on under me coat?"

He paused mid pour of the whisky and swallowed.

"Got ya."

"Corr, I forgot how no matter how many years pass by I will always fall for your crap." He laughed and then handed her the whisky as she tossed her coat on the nearby chair.

Her off the shoulder shirt seemed to force him to just stare at that lone, bare shoulder a moment to long and she cocked her head to the side with a knowing smile. "Not my fault you're easy."

He shook his head and moved to the settee. They'd had so many stupid moments like that over the years and yet somehow up until only recently he'd tried to pretend those moments, those quips and jokes and teasing and painful innuendos were a normal form of banter - and maybe they were, for those not legally made family already.

"I've decided that I'm done."

He said nothing, just nodded slowly. "

"With Paul." She added, and he didn't know how he could look himself in the mirror ever again, he should be ashamed at the relief he'd just felt.

"I thought that was… decided already."

"I mean, I can't prolong it. I feel better. Look I ever wore heels again. I can saunter out of that marriage now...I can…"

Only she seemed breathless now and he moved to sit closer to her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I know you said I'd still have you, and even Chelle…"

"You're not the one who cheated...again and again, you're not the bad guy here, so why would even Chelle…"

"She won't ghost me or freeze me out but we will be distant because the holidays are barely fair to divorced parents so how can it be fair to me?"

"We went over this… and maybe we can… I dunno…"

"And worse of all, how do I explain hanging out over here then?"

"What?"

"The way it is now, this is almost kosher Liam - well, appears so - when me and 'im are done they'll be asking and squawking about why Cruella is always hanging 'round her EX brother in law…"

"The factory lot?" He made a dismissive sneer. "Who cares?"

"They are annoying but they are people."

"Barely."

"Oh get you Lord Grantham, the downstairs help do exist...and they DO talk."

"I just don't see why we have to care. Families are complicated, who is going to think it's weird that after a million years we are still…."

"Friends?" She laughed. "Half the time they make bets on when one of us will kill the other. Us as friends sn't something they understand. It isn't something anyone understands."

"Sod 'em."

"Liam."

"Carla even when you made me want to rip me hair out, I was still your friend. That's not new and it's not going to change."

"We will change, Liam. We'll have to. Why do you think i've been putting this off so long."

He touched her hand but she took it away.

"After the surgery, after the way you looked after me, the way you even warned me about Paul -when maybe years ago you would not have…"

"But no matter when I should have."

"He's your brother," she said again, as if he needed reminding. "And things will change but I just wanted some more time to hang around my favourite idiot without anyone asking why."

He coughed, an awkward attempt to clear his throat and chewed on his lip. "You're extra soppy today. You sure you're alright."

"I have me moments."

"Aye."

"Now get me more whisky so I can stop 'aving them ok."

He laughed and obliged.

Two drams later and she had her knees up and was facing him on the couch. Her off the shoulder shirt, dangerously low. His mouth watered and his chest was tight with the sting of a good single malt and what he wasn't too tough to admit was anxiety.

She was toying with the edge of his T shirt sleeve, her fingers idly moving up towards his collar. "I will miss this…. "

"What? Killing me slowly?"

"Yes." She said, but it was more a whisper. "I will miss you."

He grabbed her and she squeaked as he quickly settled her onto his lap. "For the last bloody time, you mardy cow, I am NOT going anywhere."

She was startled for only a second before vying for control again. She shifted and swung a leg over and settled down, straddling him, biting her lip and she lowered herself and yes, he thought, he was going to die.

"Well not now that I have you trapped."

"You're a slip of woman, I can move you…." But he was leaning back his eyes locked on hers, the tendons in his neck showing the strain.

She shifted again and he let out a groan. "Move me… a little," she said, her hands moving to his shoulders.

He settled his hands on her hips and did just that.

At the near painful sigh she made he paused. "Okay?"

"Better than okay."

"Well that makes one of us." He said. She leaned down and kissed him, gently.

"Better yet?"

"Try that again and let's see."

She did and he paused her movements.

"I don't think I can play today, love."

She waited for him to go on.

"I need to feel you."

She shivered and was both glad and embarrassed he noticed.

She stood up and while he mourned the loss of her touch felt that at least he could get a full breath in.

"I understand." He said, watching her walk away.

"Do you?" She asked, now with her hand on the banister. "Because if you do, then hurry it up and follow me."

TBC.


End file.
